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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26395939">We Are All Each Other's Homes - Part II</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebigbengal/pseuds/thebigbengal'>thebigbengal</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We Are All Each Other's Homes (Sibling!AU) [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Twin Peaks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(adopted siblings), (not graphic but not implied either), (to the best of their ability), Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Siblings, Angst, Brother-Sister Relationships, Child Abuse, Domestic Disputes, Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, Multi, Nightmare Fuel, Sexual Content, Sibling Bonding, gonna be some gay in there but not until later, oh sweet sweet angst, y'all gotta wait for that</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:27:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,174</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26395939</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebigbengal/pseuds/thebigbengal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The direct sequel to Part I of the series.</p>
<p>Deputy Dale Palmer resigned from his position at the Twin Peaks sheriff station in the fall of ‘85, to the disappointment of his coworkers. His given reason was a sense of unfulfillment and a desire for something more, something grander and far-reaching. No one could object, and wished him luck, saying that whoever hired him next should be grateful to have him. Dale left town for Seattle that winter. Back in Twin Peaks, Laura Palmer blossomed further into a responsible student everyone figured she’d be. A stand-up citizen, gorgeous, and intelligent.</p>
<p>Over three years later, late January of 1989, the FBI arrives to reopen the year-old case of a murdered girl nobody noticed, and potentially cause problems for certain nefarious members of the community...</p>
<p>*Archive Warnings, tags, and character tags are subject to updating as chapters are added*</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bobby Briggs/Laura Palmer, Dale Cooper &amp; Laura Palmer, Dale Cooper &amp; Sarah Palmer (Twin Peaks), Donna hayward/Laura palmer (implied), James Hurley/Laura Palmer, sarah palmer &amp; laura palmer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We Are All Each Other's Homes (Sibling!AU) [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820566</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wait. “Wait,” they said. Dale will run holes through his shoes and quite possibly the tile floor if this waiting took any longer. What was there to discuss at this length if not to joke about his request? If he weren’t so intent on an answer straight from their mouths, negative or positive - and hopefully negative so he could argue with them at length for their ludicrous decision - he’d stride out of the hotel and forget this whole thing. Well, no, he wouldn't forget it. Odds are he'd return a more gentle approach, again and again, until he got the answer he wanted. Scratch that, the answer he <em>needed</em>. </p>
<p>When pacing became too tedious, he took to counting how many times the wallpaper design repeated along the hallway, then the gas lamps, then the checkerboard tiles.</p>
<p>At long last, Agent Rosenfield - Albert as he came to know him - opened the door and let Dale slide in through the narrow passage, but not without gesturing him to "make it quick". In the dim, square hotel room sat two men, one young and one older, both half-lit by an ornate torchiere, and eagerly stood a third man in the center where the coffee table had been before they moved it to the back corner of the room. </p>
<p>Albert began a formal rundown of their conclusion and conditions, only to be interrupted by the third man, his hearing impaired supervisor, Agent Gordon Cole, taking Dale’s hand for a firm congratulatory shake.</p>
<p>“YOU’RE IN, DALE.”</p>
<p>“Really?” He reiterated, “R-really, you’ve considered me?”</p>
<p>“CONSIDERED, SURVEYED, GRADED, AND CONFIRMED. WE’LL BE MORE THAN HAPPY TO HAVE YOU ON THIS CASE.”</p>
<p>Albert cut in, “Now, Gordon-”</p>
<p>“I KNOW WHAT’S ON YOUR MIND, ALBERT, AND I’LL GET TO IT IN A SECOND.” He turned with a smile. “DALE, HERE, HAS VALUE THAT WE CANNOT AFFORD TO LOSE. AND HE’S DONE MORE THAN PROVE IT.” He released his hand and sprung a delighted thumbs-up. "GLAD TO HAVE YOU FOR THIS PROJECT."</p>
<p>Dale's eyes briefly met the two sitting men, and then Albert; all three looked and held themselves as if they had too much to say, but for very different reasons. "Glad to be here, Agent Cole!" And returned the gesture. He focused purely on the supervisor's excitement so as to relieve those hours of waiting and lists of questions off his mind. He had Cole's trust, which meant he had the others' tolerance. This was enough for now.</p>
<p>"WE'LL CONTINUE WITH THE FINER DETAILS TOMORROW MORNING AT O'EIGHT HUNDRED. FOR NOW, WE'LL BEGIN WITH THE BASCIS."</p>
<p>He nodded to Albert standing stiff in the corner to double and triple check the door lock. One of the two men, the young one in a fine pale blue suit and plaid button up, peaked behind the drawn drapes, presumably for any eavesdroppers, despite being five stories up, and the older man - older looking than Gordon Cole with his head full of gray - grinned and dropped an open cigarette case on the floor. </p>
<p>"I take it we'll be here a while, then," he laughed.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Jacques was pulling the old moves. He must have been as bored as her by now. “You wanna try something else?” Laura asked from underneath him.</p>
<p>“Hey, I’m tryin’ my best here, doll,” he groaned out.</p>
<p>“Not enough, apparently.”</p>
<p>“Hey!” He grabbed her chin, “I’m a little on edge lately. Cut me some, uh, some slack, right? That’s what you say. Right?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, baby. I didn’t mean to set you off.” Jacques finished and sat up, satisfied. He took a long drag on his cigarette and passed it to Laura. She let it slowly fill up her lungs, held it in, and blew fat clouds into the air. Then she pulled up her underwear and rolled off the deflating mattress while Jacques peeled off the condom and slung-shot it across the room into the trash can. </p>
<p>“Eh hey! Points for me!”</p>
<p>Laura sat down on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, “You a good shot.” </p>
<p>He opened wide for a kiss. “Best in da world, <em> bebe </em>.”</p>
<p>Leo Johnson gloated to three other girls in the Timber Falls motel parking lot, all lanky and in heels, over his corvette’s new paint job. He flashed Laura a look saying, “Don’t be jealous, honey.” A large hand gripped her under her skirt. Jacques passed a vodka bottle to her and she smirked at it, then knocked it back and sucked in sharply through her teeth. “What’s botherin’ ya, doll?” he asked.</p>
<p>“I heard on the radio the FBI’s getting involved in Teresa’s case. And they’ll be scanning through Twin Peaks. There will be a town meeting this week about it.”</p>
<p>“Right, right… and that’ll be trouble for us.”</p>
<p>She sighed over the bottle and watched the gleam from the neon sign on the lip. “Probably.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know what the hell those idiots are lookin’ for. It’s pretty cut n’ dry.”</p>
<p>“You think she just tripped and hit her head?”</p>
<p>“Naw, naw,” and Laura passed the bottle back to him, where he drank the rest of the contents in a quick gulp, “Teresa couldn’t keep her shit to herself. She thought she could play the game and fucked around.”</p>
<p>“You call that cut n’ dry?”</p>
<p>“I know cops don’t go lookin’ for dead hookers for no reason.” He stamped the ground and threw the bottle at the asphalt, glass splintering and fraying out in all directions, like a snowball.</p>
<p>FBI. Laura might be seeing the real thing, what her brother always wanted.</p>
<p>From around the bend drove up Bobby’s car to the lot. Leo nodded off the three girls to go inside. </p>
<p>“Back for more, Bobby?” He shouted at him.</p>
<p>“I’m just taking Laura home, don’t worry about it.”</p>
<p>“You don’t mind, right?”</p>
<p>Bobby connected with Laura’s serious insistent gaze. “If it’s cool with her.” And Leo slobbed a wet kiss onto Laura.</p>
<p>She wiped her mouth, and stepped into the car like nothing happened. They waited a moment for Leo and Jacques to walk far enough away, then rolled up the windows. Laura reached into her coat pocket to reveal a fat roll of cash. “I think he’s about ready to give me the account,” she said, cautiously prideful.</p>
<p>“Doesn’t mean anything without the key.”</p>
<p>She flicked her self-assured smile at him, “The <em> key </em> , Bob- <em> by </em>, is dangling above my hand. Leo buckles easy.”</p>
<p>“Until he gets mad.”</p>
<p>“These guys are big, but not honors students. I don’t think they’ll suspect much.”</p>
<p>“We can’t work on ‘much,’ Laura.”</p>
<p>Before he could go on, Laura kissed him hard and balled the roll of cash into her fist. She shook it as she kissed him, then divided the roll evenly, "Don't go nuts, Bobcat.” His apprehension melted under her words, spoken soft and silky into his ear. He took them by biting with his teeth, and gave a wink.</p>
<p>They kept looking behind them while on the dirt road, Jacques and Leo shrinking in size. Once on the back roads, Bobby stuck his head out the window, shouting and whooping like a dog, The car jolted and sent a perfect shot of adrenaline up their spines. Then Laura joined him in the shouting, and when her throat tired out, she went back to pressing her face against the cold glass, her breath warming it, to watch the town lights sparkle amidst the black forest. The remaining roll of cash felt like a chunk of brick in her hand, heavy and coarse. She shoved it in her coat pocket and snatched Bobby's arm, clinging like a koala.</p>
<p>He stopped a discrete distance from the house and let Laura go, finishing with a goodnight kiss. “See ya around, baby.”</p>
<p>“If you can catch me!” She pranced off, the car carelessly swerving from curb to curb behind her, and with the straps of her heels clenched between her teeth, climbed up the trellis into her bedroom window. </p>
<p>She stared down at her door and weighed the options. She could either shower and scrub until her skin peeled, or she could sleep as is, coated head to toe in Jacques, Leo. And Bobby. If she could safely preserve his kisses in a jar, she’d keep it on her, tied to a ribbon around her neck at all times. But they mixed with Jacques' beer breath and Leo’s nicotine. Not that they needed to drink and smoke regularly to gain that particular taste. Why did Bobby like kissing her so much if she tasted too awful in her own mouth? (Tomorrow, or the day after, she’ll mix it up with someone else. Just to keep things fresh).</p>
<p>And then there was the ordeal of getting undressed in front of the mirror, feeling the house’s air hit her naked body. Her makeup smudged and seeped oil into her pores, overflowing, and the idea of waking up feeling like a slug and having to be looked at forced her out of bed to do the bare minimum - get it the fuck over with: turn on the sink and run a soapy washcloth under her dress. Her eyes stayed on the ceiling, her hands fluctuating in pressure in different areas, soft scrubbing for the arms and feet, rougher for everything else.</p>
<p>Now she could sleep. She’d redefined that word in her head. Actually, there were no plans for <em>sleep</em>-sleep. The white powder in her little baggy said so. Impressions of her door faded in and out of the dark room, shut, but unlocked.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The FBI arrives, and Laura meets with a friend.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A posting for a town hall meeting put the population number on that outdated welcome sign into perspective. Twin Peaks hasn’t been at fifty-one thousand in decades. Why precisely Twin Peaks of all places would be involved in any of this was beyond Laura. Teresa Banks, only a year older than her, lived and died in Deer Meadow about a couple miles south. They found her floating face down, wrapped in plastic, in the nearby river, apparently beaten to death. Laura wishes she could say she knew Teresa well enough to feel the completeness of the loss. In the nights she spent going back and forth between towns, motels, and truck stops on the way, not once to her recollection did Teresa’s murder make a blip on the grander radar of Washington state’s and Okanagon County’s criminal justice department. She supposed it relieved her to know that someone cared enough to look into it again, but why now of all times? Next month, February, would make it an entire year since her death.</p>
<p>Mom and Dad clung to her and sat critically in a back row by the emergency exit, periodically turning to make friendly conversation with a neighbor or colleague.</p>
<p>“You don’t suppose there was another murder since then?”</p>
<p>“I think we would have been informed if that were the case. I mean, honestly, a killer on the loose-”</p>
<p>“Did you even hear about it? Someone tells me it was last year, and I certainly didn’t know!”</p>
<p>“Barry says she may have been an escort. Seventeen years old.”</p>
<p>“Oh my!”</p>
<p>“Deer Meadow is overrun with those types. I wouldn’t be surprised if the girl went unnoticed because it happens so much.”</p>
<p>“I guess that is the consequence of an incompetent police force.”</p>
<p>Someone bumped into the podium and the microphone feedback turned the room into a ringing echo chamber. A suited man walked to the stand, showing off his full height. He had a receding hairline, the hair left on him stuck out bushy and brown, a small chin, a long and broad nose that took up most of his face, and eyes that said nothing more than “listen and shut up.” He wasn’t the kind Laura envisioned as an FBI agent. Television had them as strong-jawed, loads of hair combed to the side, Jack Lord types. The men seated behind him also defied this. One blonde and bespectacled, hair jutting out as well, another with frayed graying hair, a round face, and thick bushy eyebrows. The only one that looked to actually belong there, wearing the blackest suit she’d ever seen, was the man seated at the very end, dark hair properly combed, rectangle face and all. Perhaps it was the unnaturally white fluorescence contouring him in such a way where Laura didn’t recognize her brother immediately, or the image of him being there at all was far too surreal. She looked between her parents for a reaction, if they noticed him at all. Their faces were expressionless.</p>
<p>The agent at the podium tapped the mic and grabbed everyone’s attention with his deep and throaty voice. </p>
<p>“Ladies and gentlemen of Twin Peaks I will get straight to the point, I am here on behalf of the Federal Bureau of Investigations to conduct a follow up on the murder of one seventeen year old Teresa Bethelda Banks, residence Deer Meadow, and the disappearance of the agent assigned to her case eleven months ago, Chester Andrew Desmond.”</p>
<p>
  <em> A missing FBI agent? </em>
</p>
<p>“We are dividing our investigation between Deer Meadow and Twin Peaks, and collaborating with the local law enforcement, as we believe that Banks may have been involved with salacious activities running across county borders, including and not limited to drugs and prostitution.”</p>
<p>The crowd stirred, “Oh my god, what did I tell you?” “Now just what is he implying?”</p>
<p>“Whether or not this is the act of a serial murderer is being looked into, as our findings indicate disappearances of several other women over the course of two or more decades. We require absolute cooperation from all civilians and to practice basic common sense when out and about-”</p>
<p>“Excuse me, sir,” Ben Horne stood up amidst the audience and fixed his suit jacket, “Are you suggesting that Twin Peaks is potentially involved in these… salacious activities?”</p>
<p>“I believe that to my incredible memory I not only suggested it, but out right stated that as the case; you would be correct, Mr-”</p>
<p>“Horne. Benjamin Horne of the Great Northern hotel and Horne’s department store. I’d like to know if this will at all impact any of the local business schedules.”</p>
<p>“Of course you do.”</p>
<p>Dale straightened up and the smallest hint of a smirk appeared, holding back the corners of his mouth from curling while the agent shot down Ben’s questions with a swift “if you have any other concerns please talk to me directly rather than extend this meeting any further than need be” in front of half the town. The blonde agent shifted uneasily and the older agent was far less secretive of his pleasure at his colleague’s impatience. </p>
<p>“Twin Peaks itself is not the scene of the crime, so no regulatory impositions will be placed. As of yet.”</p>
<p>While the residents filed out and Laura’s parents led her to the exit, she tried to subtly pull against them and grab a better look at Dale. His attention met his old colleagues and greeted them warmly. His new cohorts already left, save for Rosenfield, who stood idly by for Dale to finish up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The strangest thing. Apart from a passing mention in the halls or the Double R, the now known fact that Dale Palmer was working with the FBI, as an agent no less, had barely hit Laura in any form. Leland and Sarah remained quiet on the entire thing, save for concern of a murderer. Laura herself never brought it up, but something in her truly wanted someone to ask how she felt. Not that she felt any way about it whatsoever.</p>
<p>However, one person could not hold themselves back.</p>
<p>“You saw him right? I’m not crazy?” Audrey Horne, ready to leap out of her socks, caught Laura by the waist in the girl’s restroom. She bounced on her saddle shoes and her wide, lipsticked grin could have gone off the sides of her face.</p>
<p>“God, Audrey, let's not do this now,” Laura sighed while digging for her lip gloss. </p>
<p>“Oh no, lets!” She twirled and leaned back her head, “Threeee years and he pops up again like, like-”</p>
<p>“A fungus.”</p>
<p>“Bigfoot! Or the Lochness monster. And here on some super secret case-”</p>
<p>“They told us what it was.”</p>
<p>“And you believe that’s the whole story?”</p>
<p>The perceived conclusion of Audrey’s point irritated her.“Why not? Do you care?”</p>
<p>“<em>You </em> should. Aren’t you at all excited? I mean, a cop, that’s one thing. But a secret agent-”</p>
<p>“He’s not a secret agent!” Laura snapped. “I don’t even think he’s an <em> agent </em>agent. It doesn’t make any sense. He never went to college. They couldn’t have just given him a job!”</p>
<p>“Maybe that’s exactly what happened. He waltzed in, suit and all, and said, ‘Listen here, <em> I </em> know who killed her <em> and </em> what went down with that Desmond guy.’”</p>
<p>“You’re not serious.”</p>
<p>“It’s a thought.” Audrey flicked up her eyebrows and leaned over the sink. “Didn’t know he could look so cut.”</p>
<p>“Are you trying to make me blow chunks?!”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry! You don’t have to listen.” </p>
<p>Laura shook her head like an Etch-a-Sketch to get rid of the images Audrey put in her mind and applied her lip gloss. Audrey watched herself in the mirror, briefly glancing at Laura without turning. “You wanna smoke by the bins after the bell?"</p>
<p>"Maybe tomorrow. I have to tutor Mrs. Packard."</p>
<p>“Another side gig? How do you make time to sleep? By the time you turn thirty, your entire head will be gray.” A knowing smirk, and Audrey walked off, brushing her hand across the tips of Laura’s hair. The second she was out of ear-shot, Laura snorted a laugh. Audrey’s eccentricities, when they weren’t tedious, brought a spark to Laura’s day. A bit of spunk that obviously took energy out of Audrey to keep up, but Laura admired her for trying. The one criticism she believes she should voice is her clear intolerance of cigarettes. Nothing brings down a room faster than Audrey sucking down nicotine like a toddler and unable to hold it for more than a microsecond.  </p>
<p>By the time classes were let out, Laura half-wished she did accept Audrey’s offer. That way, she’d have time for some of her “medicine.” Maybe it was for the best in the long run, because she was one more use away from emptying the bag and dealing with the hassle of a refill.</p>
<p>She walked farther ahead of the group today, with Donna too busy to notice, instead giving her two cents with Bailey Preston and Jessica Cotterell on Rachel Smith's rumored fling with the Chemistry 101 substitute, three girls Donna insisted Laura try to interact with, but at this point, Donna had introduced her to so many classmates, their faces bled together into a single blob. Evading Donna proved to be a more arduous task than expected these days. She can't always walk with their hips sewn, honestly, she told herself. Some days, Donna acted particularly clingy, and staving her off grew tiresome. Audrey is at least playful with it, but Donna got to be so serious, it hurt. </p>
<p>Cutting a corner and running to the other side of the block, Laura checked up and down the street for any signs of him - he’d typically take this street after school. As predicted, a rumbling motorcycle came down the street and approached the sidewalk, the driver revved his engine some two or three times. With the flick of a switch, Laura lengthened her stride and swayed her hips, playfully looking over her shoulder at the leather-jacket bound driver. James Hurley, seventeen like her, and the new boy in town, stopped his bike right at the curb. "And how are we doing today?"</p>
<p>"Not bad. How are you?"</p>
<p>"Better and better." </p>
<p>"Laura, would you slow down already-" Donna landed right beside her and turned on her own switch.</p>
<p>"Hi, James."</p>
<p>"'Sup, Donna."</p>
<p>Although of a very different type. </p>
<p>It was this moment Laura flickered between the tiny amusement at Donna's awkwardness, and annoyance with her insistence to butt in. Granted, this was not one of the secrets Laura kept from her. She allowed Donna to know, and even observe. Where it began, she had trouble sorting. Either the constipated desire to let someone in on something, as harmless as a fling with the new kid, got the best of her, or Donna's interference played to her advantage.</p>
<p>"You girls interested in hanging out at the roadhouse this weekend?"</p>
<p>"Both of us?" Laura and Donna asked together; Donna excited, Laura concerned.</p>
<p>"Yeah, we can get some root beers and hang."</p>
<p>“I’d love that.”</p>
<p>“Alright,” he revved his engine again before zooming off, “Later.”</p>
<p>The girls waved. Laura repeated him at Donna in a deep voice, “<em> Later </em>.”</p>
<p>“You two were gonna make plans without me!”</p>
<p>“No!” She directed their attention to the other side of the block where Bailey and Jessica continued walking, as if Donna hadn’t left. “Only without them.”</p>
<p>“You’d like them.”</p>
<p>“Hmm.”</p>
<p>“I’m serious. Spend time with someone else besides Bobby.”</p>
<p>“Says Little Miss Take-Me-With-You.”</p>
<p>“Because you’re always running off!” Donna stopped Laura in her tracks, “You’re not gonna ditch again, are you?”</p>
<p>Resisting the sensation of her mouth scrunching up, she said, “No. I promise.”</p>
<p>“Cool,” Donna confidently smiled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Three hundred dollars total. Not bad, but compared to what Jacques and Leo hand out to hitchhikers and waitresses, it’s pocket change. Ten percent for savings, thirty for the car, fifty for groceries, about twenty for Christmas gifts, maybe shave off some of the fifty percent for herself. In hindsight, spending so much at the Double R did her no favors. But it made Donna and Bobby smile. Now to wonder when the next payday is. Tonight, or the one after that, or next week. Outsiders actually pay more than regulars, funny enough, but a few of them will gip you and run off without leaving a dime. And Laura will have to go back home, sullen and angered, and if she cared enough to cry over it, she would. Thinking over the past dozen job offerings made her cringe. Ben Horne would have gladly thrown money at Laura for tutoring Johnny an extra hour. Yet, the idea of seeing Johnny, and picking up a paycheck afterwards, from that man no less, would do no favors to her already sleepless nights. The gig at One Eyed Jack’s sounded steady paying, but… no, it wasn’t worth it. That much she was sure of.</p>
<p>Laura had to laugh at herself for acknowledging the existence of standards in her code. Even thinking about Leo and his mysterious hidden savings account didn’t elicit any wonders of bundles of Benjamins, finally affording a decent kilo of coke and her own car, rather, she pictured the devastation when he finds it empty, the violent outburst as he accuses Jacques, and the two mercilessly beating each other like blinded bulls. She’ll have paid Bobby off for everything and that’ll be that.</p>
<p>Mom, slouching in her arm chair, stared ahead at the blue-faded television screen, and Dad, hunched over the kitchen table, pen furiously scratching through the paper to the wood, saw only numbers and letters.</p>
<p>“Going out?” Dad asked.</p>
<p>“Mrs. Packard’s scheduled for today.”</p>
<p>“I thought her last weekday was yesterday?”</p>
<p>“She needs more help with idioms.”</p>
<p>“Ah, I see,” Leland tossed the keys her way, “You know the curfew.”</p>
<p>“Yes sir.”</p>
<p>“You come straight back home.”</p>
<p>“Yes sir.”</p>
<p>“Nowhere else.” In a tone undecided if a jab to make sure Laura understood the rules, or a stern command.</p>
<p>“Yes. Dad.” </p>
<p>“Bye, sweetie,” as Laura slipped out the door, she noticed her mother did not turn her head her way when she said that, while Leland stared from the corners of his eyes.</p>
<p>Josie Packard was, in fact, not scheduled for today. The Packard estate flew past the car, and then vanished behind the trees and out of mind while Laura twisted down the dirt road. She stopped the car behind a little house, right below an oak whose branches hung low and created a screen with it’s leaves. With three knocks on the door, a young man poked his head out, though fit and healthy-looking, he most certainly did not stand like it.</p>
<p>“Laura!” His voice squeaked with joy.</p>
<p>“Hi, Harold.”</p>
<p>“Come in, come in!”</p>
<p>The house smelt of fertilizer and far too much mildew, but warm and friendly. The aging couch sank under Laura and Harold Smith immediately got to work with a pot of tea. She nearly declined, but how many guys bothered to make her tea?</p>
<p>“I figured you’d come, I was feeling lucky today.”</p>
<p>“Sixth sense?”</p>
<p>“Oh, my vanilla seeds sprouted!” He rushed over a tiny pot from his greenhouse, cradling a delicate green stem in dark soil with the littlest hint of a leaf at the end.</p>
<p>“How long did they take?”</p>
<p>“Months! So much trial and error. They’re very stubborn, but they pulled through.” Paternally smiling at the sprout, he put it back inside with the others and sat in his chair beside the couch, a pen and notepad in hand. “I suppose you’d like to get started.”</p>
<p>“Not today, actually.”</p>
<p>“No?”</p>
<p>“I think I just want to talk.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” and quickly put the notepad away so as not to offend, “What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>“My brother’s back in town. He’s working with the FBI.”</p>
<p>“I read the posting in the paper. Something about a young girl.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” she swallowed, “it’s a shame.”</p>
<p>“I know you have very complicated feelings about him. Have you had an appointment with Dr. Jacoby lately?”</p>
<p>“He’s on hold. I’m… uneasy about him.”</p>
<p>“Well, he is a psychiatrist, I’m sure he has his odd methods,” Harold chuckled and abruptly stopped when Laura’s face did not change. “Are you going to go talk to your brother?”</p>
<p>“Should I?” She quietly asked.</p>
<p>“If he makes you unhappy, I don’t think you should.”</p>
<p>She recalled Dale’s image in the town hall, focused entirely on Sheriffs Truman and Hill. Grinning, well-dressed, within the job he dreamt of for years.</p>
<p>“Personally, after what he did, I wouldn’t give him the time of day.”</p>
<p>Sucking in air through her teeth, she said, “It’s strange. He shows up again, just as I’ve worked something out.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>Laura grinned wide. “A plan,” she teased, diving away from the subject.</p>
<p>“To… do what?”</p>
<p>“I can’t say!”</p>
<p>Harold leaned in. “W-what is it, Laura?”</p>
<p>“It has something to do with Leo Johnson.”</p>
<p>“Oh, you should stay away from him.”</p>
<p><em> Too late. </em>“He’s a babe in the woods. I play him like a fiddle.”</p>
<p>“Laura, you need to be careful.”</p>
<p>“That’ll be a story! A great story for you to write down, I’ll tell you all about it later!”</p>
<p>She went for the door and Harold took her hand, “How much later?”</p>
<p>“<em>Later </em>, Harold,” and graced his cheek with a kiss, “Soon.”</p>
<p>She sat in the driver's seat for awhile, knowing Harold would never dare leaving the house, and no windows in her view for him to look out of. Then she drove down the dirt road, only to stop and pause again, wondering if it didn't betray her mysterious exit too much if she just bit down and went back inside to talk and drink and kiss. It'd be a waste of tea if she just left. Driving up the hill came two cars, one following the other rather close. The first car passed hers and she caught the briefest glimpse of the driver, wearing a sharp suit, and all she could think of was getting home and staying there.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dale recieves a strange message. Laura and Donna spend an evening with James.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Great Northern was not his first choice. Truth be told, he would have preferred the Timber Falls motel, in spite of the lack of room service and faulty air conditioning units, but the bed sheets were the deal breaker, an unholy marriage of cotton and nylon for the duvet with clumpy polyester stuffing, and rayon for the fitted sheets, culminating in nights of red raw skin and itching that’d make you pray for fleas. </p><p>Albert recommended that they all stay in one hotel to minimize time spent coming and going from one point to another in order to reconvene and dissertate findings, and there was no way, to quote, “in hell,” he was staying in the prison block motel over the overdressed Lincoln Log cabin with proper air circulation. In addition, one had a dining hall right downstairs with complimentary breakfast. Dale could never say no to that.</p><p>The charm of the Great Northern and Twin Peaks entertained Sam Stanely the most out of the four visiting agents, much to Albert’s annoyance. He noted landmarks and speculated that not a single building in town had been built earlier than 1915, which was hilariously incorrect. Windom Earle enjoyed dissecting the historical ramifications of Lewis and Clark’s expeditions and idealistic miners traversing the Klondike for Gold and Glory, and perhaps in some cases, God.</p><p>Whatever the case may be, Dale only saw a little town that never bustled, never fussed, and had too many clouds to show a gorgeous sunset. They passed the tackle shop where he threw away his allowance on fishing wire and crickets - both not related to each other - then the public playground he snuck out to at night when he was twelve so he could practice jumping from the swing set, and then the dirt parking lot where he buried a time capsule containing comics, National Geographics, his favorite GI Joe figure, and Laura’s least favorite Barbie doll.</p><p>Laura was probably four years old at the time. Now she was seventeen going on eighteen this July. From what he saw of her at the town hall meeting, she’d gotten the hang of doing her own makeup.</p><p>They went over the agenda at the Double R, with Dale offering to pay for whatever they ordered. Once again Albert voiced his complaints, that choosing to drive all the way out to a diner rather than the Great Northern’s own dining hall for breakfast, the very same that Dale raved about, did nothing but shave off a couple needed pints of gas. The place hadn’t changed a bit, and in every wall panel and floor tile came a swell of memories, embarrassing and bittersweet. His first day officially living in the Palmer house began with a complimentary breakfast from Norma’s father, waffles stacked near to the ceiling and topped with cream whipped certainly by beautiful Swedish maidens and strawberries picked by them too. A trucker ruffled his hair. Freshman year, he ruined Kelly Schinder’s wool skirt by spilling a milkshake on her over by the counter. And the booth by that window was where he first held Annie’s hand...</p><p>“We got the warrant, but Gibson is being airtight with the records.”</p><p>Windom scanned the file with mundane precision, “I don’t suppose you’ll give him a good rationale.”</p><p>“I doubt anyone in Deer Meadow is familiar with the word.” Albert adjusted his watch to the inside of his wrist, a move Dale noticed in most folks associated with the military and federal organizations and the like. He anticipated each tick of the seconds hand. Dale’s eyes moved to Sam spying on the daily lives of these sleepy towns’ people. This entire set up, right down to the seating arrangement, slapped him with Deja vu, only from where he couldn’t tell.</p><p>“Albert, where the police end, the Bureau begins. And these men have clearly given up the moment she washed up on shore. Now, Dale’s the one here who knows Twin Peaks. Will he be staying with me while you and Stanley go South?”</p><p>“That’s the present plan, yes.”</p><p>“Actually, Albert,” Dale chimed, “I’d like to give Deer Meadow a look.”</p><p>“Really? You’ve read the files.”</p><p>“I feel examining the crime scene first hand will give me better insight and foresight into events.”</p><p>“I concur with Dale,” Windom agreed. “Actually, I should give the place a once-over myself. In the meantime, Albert, you should familiarize yourself with this little hidden mountain marvel. Dale isn’t here to be our tour guide, after all.”</p><p>Albert indignantly checked his watch again, “Whatever works. The police station will comply with demands, surely. I’m half-betting their records are in better shape, but that’s a low bar to leap. I suppose a library wouldn’t be too much to ask?”</p><p>Dale nodded. “Right down Manning street. Mrs. Bryant there will be more than happy to-”</p><p>“I’ll manage.”</p><p>Sam shifted with unease, no doubt, at the thought of Deer Meadow. No grizzly scene awaited them, but if the photographs and articles and everything else in between served as any indication, there didn’t need to be for the thought of that place to set your spine straight as an arrow.</p><p>From around the counter came Shelly McCauly, taller, longer hair, wearing lipstick and the Double R uniform like an old friend. To Dale’s recollection, Shelly was about a couple months older than Laura, and a class ahead of her. Last he saw her she could vanish into thin air. With a shy smile, she readied her notepad and pen.</p><p>“Hi there, Shelly,” Dale greeted.</p><p>“Hi,” like a mouse caught by surprise.</p><p>“You probably don’t recognize me do you?”</p><p>“I couldn’t tell right away from over there,” she motioned to the back booth where a gaggle of bikers sat, “but it’s nice to see you again!” </p><p>“Fella’s this is Shelly,” Albert respectfully nodded, Windom waved with a raised eyebrow, and Sam began his order before Dale cut him off, “You’re a senior by now, aren’t you? Or did you already graduate?”</p><p>“Um,” fibbing, “I graduated early.”</p><p>The smallest hesitation could quite possibly just be Shelly, but it came out like she was giving away a nasty secret. At the bottom of Dale’s line of sight, a glistening dot on Shelly’s finger annoyed him out of politeness. Unmistakably a diamond wedding band. Getting married at eighteen isn’t something totally remarkable, though certainly falling out of fashion.</p><p>“Who’s the lucky fella?” He asked with a chipper tone, hopefully to disarm her and show he wasn’t judgmental. The other three men began to get antsy.</p><p>“Oh, uh,” a tiny frown, then another smile, “some guy.”</p><p>“Same age?”</p><p>“Uh huh.” </p><p>“Oh, well, congratulations! I trust he’s taking good care of you. ”</p><p>“Yes, sir.”</p><p>“Do you and Laura see each other much?”</p><p>“Uh,” and she paused, “not really, not since I graduated.”</p><p>Albert interjected, “Would you like me to point the lamp at her face for effect?” Dale glanced his way while Albert straightened up and gave his order. “Cup of coffee, oatmeal, toast, and eggs.”</p><p>“Cream and sugar?”</p><p>“Please.”</p><p>“Scrambled?”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am”</p><p>Dale starkly added his, “Coffee, black.” And so followed Windom and Sam.</p><p>“God forbid a man reacquaint himself with his hometown, Albert,” said Windom.</p><p>“Pardon me for not making room on the schedule for a reunion concert.” But Albert caught Dale’s frown, and adjusted course, “Was that a friend of your sister’s?”</p><p>“To be quite honest, I’m not sure. Shelly has always seemed to be adrift.” He turned in the booth to follow Shelly’s path through the kitchen double doors, and as the regulars fell in for their usual meals in their usual seats, the cushions depressed from habit, the absence of Norma Jennings struck him. The woman held a reputation of never missing a day of work.</p><p>Sam finally got a word in, “What jewelers around here cut diamonds?” </p><p>Only for Windom to smother it with a question of his own. "Speaking of your sister, will we ever meet those lovely parents of yours, Dale?”</p><p>Albert quickly deflected, “Pardon me, Agent Earle, now is not the time for us to get snuggly with the in-laws.”</p><p>Windom laughed off the sarcasm, but out of his view, Dale faintly smiled with relief at Albert’s save. Though, perhaps, if only worded differently.</p><p>He should call Sarah. Just to hear her voice. To know that she’s there, and let her know that he is here. He should call, but if she doesn’t pick up the phone, Dad will...</p><p>The agents received their orders and ate at a brisk pace. Dale regretted the choice to not savor the lovingly prepared meal after years of dreaming for it’s return, but the booth was shrinking and so was the ceiling, and a case that had already waited a year nudged him in the side. Windom only asked for a plate of toast, finishing early and watching the remaining three with his chin resting on his folded hands. They tipped generously, and Dale opted for a note personally thanking Shelly. </p><p>As the men left for the door, up from a booth tucked behind the rumpling table of bikers came a bespectacled middle-aged woman, cradling a log with great care. Dale had scarcely heard her name uttered outside of a professional setting, servers taking her order or law enforcement, otherwise it was always her - even Dale had to admit, lazily concocted - nickname, “The Log Lady.” He recalled the unpleasantness of his high school classmates chucking insults and snide laughs at her as she passed by, and spreading disturbing rumors. One in particular that the log represented her long-dead child, whom she murdered. Dale knew this to be invariably untrue, because she’d never had a child, and certainly not with her husband, who died moments after their wedding. And in all his years of familiarizing himself with Twin Peaks’ oddities, The Log Lady, while a slippery mystery, never possessed the capacity to be anything in the realm of danger. Either her gentle regarding and silently confident demeanor gave it away, or the warm, and pained, smiles she gave to him and his sister.</p><p>“Hello, Margaret,” he said, consciously pulling a grin.</p><p>“Hello,” she replied dismissively, yet urgent, “You’re back.”</p><p>“That I am.”</p><p>“With a badge?”</p><p>Dale reached into his pocket and proudly revealed the federal emblem to her.</p><p>“Interesting,” again, dismissive. Her eyes wandered across the agents and, after assessing their characters, returned back to Dale, “My log has some advice for you. Would you care to hear it?”</p><p>“Uh, yes ma’am.” He’s seen her cite her log to strangers before, but never directly to him. A bizarre encounter once involved Margaret approaching his mother in the middle of a galla, one she was not even invited to. The precise wording of her advice, however, escaped him. Behind him, he could hear Sam whisper something that made Windom chuckle, and if he had eyes on the back of his head, Albert’s dearly unamused expression would be in plain view.</p><p>Placing her hand on the log’s “face” and pausing to gather her will, she slowly translated, “Where there walks fire, leaves smoke and ash. Do not let it blind you,” she opened her eyes, “Do you understand?”</p><p>“I believe I do.”</p><p>“Good,” and threw a threatened look at Windom before she hurried out the door.</p><p>“Old classmate?”</p><p>“Margaret Lanterman. She’d been that way since before I moved here.”</p><p>“Very interesting woman.” Windom chimed.</p><p>Sam’s face pinched, “‘Where there walks fire…’ What do you think that means?”</p><p>“One puzzle at a time, Samuel.”</p><p>Albert impatiently tapped his watch, “Before we head to the station, would you like to warn us of the Mole People on our way there?”</p><p>Dale let that fly over him, instead fumbling around the proverb for relevance.</p>
<hr/><p>“Leo, baby, is your old lady there?”</p><p>“She just left. You know you don’t call today.”</p><p>“Yeah, Leo, but-”</p><p>“You call when I <em> say </em> you can.”</p><p>Laura ground her teeth, “It’s been so long since it’s been just us, with ol’ Jacques always around. And you’re shipping off to Boise come the morning after tomorrow. No Boise girl is gonna scratch that itch. Not like I do.”</p><p>She heard Leo breathe on the other end and move around for something. Then he said, “Alright, eleven p.m. I’ll get Shelly out of the way.” And he hung up.</p><p><em> Give that chick a medal for dealing with that guy. </em>A girl a little more than her age living in a house, with a husband, cooking, cleaning, and dealing with taxes. She wanted to laugh, because Laura had and could never see herself doing that, yet, highly likely, does things that even Shelly could never dream of. Crown her queen of the universe for that alone.</p><p>She’ll call Bobby later about their plans. Her only objective now was to relax.</p><p>She opened the door slowly into the dark hallway. Her parents’ bedroom door stood at the other end, an ever observant monolith. Leland went to bed without Sarah, who was still laying on the couch. </p><p>Sarah, half asleep, murmured on what could be, to the unfamiliar ear, an incantation. The jangling of the family car keys on the hook roused her awake, “Leland? That you?” </p><p>“It’s me, Mom. I’m off to see Donna.”</p><p>“Oh, alright. Be safe.”</p><p>Laura assured her. As she opened the door her mother slipped off and went on murmuring in a haze, and a sliver of it caught Laura’s ear, “Dale’s not at the Timberfalls, I told you.”</p><p>Donna fidgeted in the car seat with nervous joy. Laura switched between the road and Donna in her peripheral, attempting questions to ease her, rile her, and draw out whatever information she could already gather.</p><p>“You’d think you’d never seen a boy before.”</p><p>“Sorry?”</p><p>“I said,” she turned her head away from the road, “You think you’d never seen a boy before.”</p><p>“Oh,” Donna laughed, “Not like James.”</p><p>“Mike not doing it for you, anymore?”</p><p>“God no! I think he’s looking at other girls.”</p><p>Laura stifled a laugh. <em> Then what does do it for Donna? </em>She wondered.</p><p>Two headlights gleamed in the rear view mirror. Laura could swear they’d been trailing them. A couple turns here and there before the car behind turned onto another road. A sigh of relief.</p><p>James waited for them by the Roadhouse double doors, still clad in his leather jacket. Rarely would Laura ever see him without the thing. Except on <em> some </em>nights… And she stifled another laugh.</p><p>“Hey, ladies.”</p><p>“Hey, James.” Donna hastily spoke out.</p><p>Laura wrapped an arm around James’ waist. “It’s not a race, Donna,” she said.</p><p>James casually led the girls inside, “Come on, Uncle Ed gave me my allowance yesterday. I’ll get you two whatever.”</p><p>“Shirley Temples!” Donna exclaimed.</p><p>“<em> Virgin </em> Shirley Temples,” Laura added.</p><p>“All Shirley Temples are virgin.”</p><p>“Maybe that’s what she wants you to think.”</p><p>Nothing but bikers this time around. No one familiar. An old couple with matching American flag bandanas and witchy gray hair nodded at James, and a group of four men smiled at him before they sat down. </p><p>“They your gang?” Donna asked excitedly while they took the farthest booth.</p><p>“Oh, uh-”</p><p>“James doesn’t know anyone here except us.”</p><p>“Yeah,” he giggled, “I got here early and just spent my time talking to those folks. Real nice, all of ‘em. Tony over there offered to give my bike a tune-up.”</p><p>They got their Shirley Temples. Donna toyed with her straw and cherry garnish, and Laura thought of Audrey and what she was up to. “I hear you’re a great kisser if you can tie the stems of these with only your tongue.”</p><p>“No way!” James objected.</p><p>“It’s true, Audrey Horne can do it.”</p><p>“I’ll bet she’s lying.” Donna said.</p><p>“She’s not lying,” Laura popped in, “but she can’t do it.”</p><p>“Can you?”</p><p>Her polished fingertips yanked the stem from her own cherry, “No.”</p><p>Jazz music swirling above them in the rivers of nicotine smoke and dust, and the band’s tempo buoyed with it. Hot red and velvet blue neon coated them like candy. A momentary cut of white light, from two headlights, broke Laura’s stupor, freezing her in place, like a doe. Silhouettes of furniture and the bikers, and then of Donna and James, marched across the walls as the light slowly moved past the windows. So very much like those shadows of owls that flit along her wall late at night, catching the beams from the streetlight. She anticipated the shadows decent, their calculated maneuver for their prey. Then the strange car was gone.</p><p>Laura moved closer to James and their lips met. He doesn’t grab her like Bobby, sadly, but he kissed better. Right around now some regulars would come in. Maybe, against all odds, a herd of FBI agents might storm the place, scanning for crooks and escaped convicts, and one of them might happen to turn their head in this exact direction-</p><p>“You good?” He whispered.</p><p>“Yeah,” realizing she wasn’t kissing him back, “Just wanted more of you.”</p><p>Over his shoulder, Donna watched impatiently, and for a moment, she believed that Laura was blissfully unaware of her friend sitting there, wrapped up in the euphoria of Beautiful, Sweet James Hurley, except for the smallest measurement of a second, where Donna could swear Laura’s eyes met hers.</p>
<hr/><p>Crisp. A shock to the system, unlike anything on earth. Dale believed that if scientists gathered at the highest peak and took samples of the air, they’d find only one element. Technically speaking, the heterogeneous nature of the atmosphere was essential to the planet’s survival, but something about these Washington forests bent the rules of the universe. </p><p>Philadelphia felt lightyears away. When he was first called to Bureau's HQ down in Philly, a sickening combination of nostalgia and revulsion clocked him over the head. Almost 20 years now since what happened. He dared to fully recall the left and right turns it would take to get to his old house, if it were still there, and look upon its windows, fearfully anticipating people that resembled his birth mother and father to appear. Wearing their skin and eyes.</p><p>He shoved it away.</p><p>Strange to believe that Twin Peaks was kinder. And, God, if it wasn’t beautiful.</p><p>“So we’re in agreement. Windom, Sam, and I will go to Deer Meadow, quite possibly stay the night, and you familiarize yourself with Twin Peaks.”</p><p>“Truthfully, I fail to see the relevance of this place in the investigation, Dale. Blue Rose case or no.” Albert, in defiance of the gift straight from Gaia herself, lit a cigarette.</p><p>“Well, you heard Gordon. Top-to-bottom.”</p><p>“I’d rather have a local stick around.”</p><p>“Are you doubting Agent Earle’s capability of supervising me?”</p><p>He raised an eyebrow. “My opinions on Agent Earle have more variety than Gengis Khan had illegitimates.”</p><p>“That’s a lot.”</p><p>“Correct.”</p><p>They stood silent, instead of absorbing the mountain air they took in each other’s anxiety without exchanging a glance. Albert asked, “Are you alright,” and it wasn’t often that such a deathly sincere tone crossed his husky voice. </p><p>Before Dale could answer, Windom knocked at the door. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything between you gentlemen.”</p><p>“Not at all.”</p><p>“I wish to get more familiar with this little gem in the mountains. I am in absolute awe at the allure of this place.”</p><p>“It is intoxicating, isn’t it? Where’s Agent Stanley?”</p><p>“Last I saw him, he was in the bar. I don’t believe he’s too thrilled about the Deer Meadow trip, and a hangover won’t serve him any good.” He nodded, “Albert.”</p><p>“Always policing the lightweights.” Albert huffed and left the room to wrangle the likely plastered agent downstairs.</p><p>Now alone, Windom took Albert’s place on the deck. The night air shifted accordingly. “I wasn’t sure whether to believe you, Dale. But the minute we crossed the town limits, I knew for certain. It’s <em> potent </em>.”</p><p>“Is Gordon going to give me the full rundown?”</p><p>“Patience. We must assess the entire situation.”</p><p>“I know Albert is wary of me, but-”</p><p>“Albert believes he knows all there is to know about Blue Rose, but if anything, he’s more of a novice than you are. If <em> I </em> can see it, and <em> Gordon </em> can see it, have no doubt over your abilities.”</p><p>Windom’s hand laid on Dale’s shoulder, and stared deep with a set of bluish-grey eyes that reminded him of Leland’s. But they didn’t pierce. And they didn’t <em> hunt </em>. Pursued, but not hunted. The absolute earnestness with which he looked at you was something only achieved by a handful of people Dale knew, many of whom lay far out of reach.</p><p>The low calls of an owl down the mountain slope, on the prowl. In the black sea ahead of him he could picture hundreds of the winged things, but this time, instead of ducking and hiding, he’d follow them to their lair and unearth their beastly secrets.</p>
<hr/><p>A dancing dog. Wet and slick with some sort of gunk. Oil. Prancing. </p><p>No. Chasing.</p><p>Chasing what?</p><p>
  <em> I don’t know. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But it’s so happy to see me. </em>
</p><p>A glint of light down the hall, to a table, where a little ring sat.</p><p>
  <em> Where was Mom? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> How could she leave the house without her wedding ring? </em>
</p><p>The dog dragged behind it a burning smell. It circled them, growing increasingly erratic. It’s growls and snarls formed strange words of another language. But it was actually English. They knew, because for some reason, all they heard in their ears was a thunderous, “<em> <strong>Soon… Soon… Soon…</strong>” </em></p>
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